


Unforgettable Days

by DaisyFloyd



Series: Pink Floyd Collection [3]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Sad, Song Lyrics, Yeah it's quite sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFloyd/pseuds/DaisyFloyd
Summary: Roger recalls past memories, shared with David.He wishes things were still the same.





	Unforgettable Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Please note that:  
> \- This is a fictional work.  
> \- English is not my first language.  
> \- I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone mentioned in this story.

_Dave and I are not mates, we never were and I doubt we ever will be._

-

_Château d’Hérouville, France. 29 th of February, 1972._

When you are living the best moment of your life, you never realise it while it’s happening. Only once it’s over you can look back and truly appreciate how fortunate you were to live it, and wish it could happen again and again. You don’t need to have dinner in a cruise ship or inaugurate a monument in your own honour, you just need to be surrounded by the right people, be loved, and be at peace with yourself.

Those were simpler times, indeed, when they could enjoy a whole day together, being both productive and laid-back. Warmer times, when they were affectionate and considerate, and respected each other. The Floyd had its good and bad moments, but without a doubt, the recording of _Obscured by Clouds_ had been a week to remember, with many highlights. Sure, the product didn’t turn out to be too much of a successful album, but the recording sessions made it completely worth it.

Roger admired the beautiful landscape, opening one of the windows of the grand Château d’Hérouville. The band had never thought they would be working in such a mansion, surrounded by gardens full of flowers. Their early gigs felt like they had happened just a few days before, but five years had went by already. Spring was coming to the old France, and the fields were slowly turning into natural multicolour artworks.

He looked at his side, and Richard seemed just as mesmerised with the view as Roger himself was. Behind them, Nick and David connected some cables. The place was a complete disaster, instruments lying around and papers scattered everywhere, but it was common for Pink Floyd. Rick used to say that creativeness implied chaos, and he was certainly right. It seemed that their level of musical enlightenment was directly proportional to the number of cymbals, drums, and tangled wires that would fill the studio.

The only thing that was where it was supposed to be was Dave’s black Stratocaster. He wouldn’t leave his baby on the floor, it was too precious to deserve that treatment. Instead, it rested inside its case, occupying the only table. The table was there to be used as a surface for Roger to place a paper and write, but they preferred to have their guitars on the table and their writers on the floor. The Floyd had never been traditional in any aspect, anyway.

Rick tried to demonstrate he was the master of yo-yo tricks. He would attempt and fail every time, and Nick couldn’t stop laughing and taking photos. His Polaroid was probably his most precious object at the moment, and it was capable of producing beautiful black and white images. Meanwhile, David sat on the sofa and strummed the same three chords again and again, on his acoustic guitar. He thought they sounded a bit off, but couldn’t determine what changes he could make for them to sound exactly like he wanted them to. He let out a frustrated sigh, and glanced up to search for the bassist. At the other side of the room, next to the big window, Roger sat on the floor like a schoolgirl and focused on finishing the lyrics for a song.

“Rog, do you think this sounds decent?”

Roger left his pen and the paper, got up, and carefully crossed the room trying not to step on anything. It was a rather difficult task, considering the insane amount of wires, boxes and other random things that were making it difficult to see the carpet. David watched him standing there, looking down and evaluating his next step, and then proceeding to take advantage of his long legs to get to the sofa.

“We should be more organised, this place is a mess.” He said, sitting down next to Dave. “I couldn’t hear you with this yo-yo championship going on.”

Nick and Rick were having too much of a good time, and didn’t hear Roger’s complaints. David looked at them and smiled, amused by his friends’ childish fun. They had been working nonstop for almost two weeks now, they had the right to goof around for a minute. Nick finally made a successful trick and the whole band clapped.

Roger smiled too, and that made David want to stop the passing of time and just remain there. He still remembered their initial discords, and now that they had stopped being enemies and waved the same flag, he wished they had never been stupid enough to let trivial things get in the way of their relationship. Roger was one of the most precious, kind, loving, stubborn and extravagant people he had ever met. He was fascinating.

“I told you to wait before having children, but you didn’t listen.” David faked a reproaching tone, and the bassist chuckled in response.

“What was the thing?”

David proceeded to strum the same chords again, as his lover and bandmate watched with attention. Roger frowned a little, noticing that same thing that was off in some way. They looked at each other for an instant, almost talking without speaking. Roger reached for his own guitar, a wooden beauty he had brought with him from Britain along with his bass. He imitated David’s movements and contemplated the result.

“Sounds too tense.” He concluded, and changed the position of his fingers on the fretboard. “What about… _Show me where the key is kept…”_

He was talented, to say the least. David looked up to him. They were specialized in different areas, but worked together like they were musical soulmates. Like two pieces from a puzzle, distinct from each other, but perfectly made to attach and make something better, something unreachable if they were separated.

“And then you go… _Point me down the right line because it’s time…_ Finishing with the seventh, and then ninth.” Roger explained, and Dave nodded.

Rick admitted he couldn’t do tricks, and with his surrender, the yo-yo championship ended. They noticed their bandmates’ current creative process, and sat down to watch them. It was interesting to see them working. Singing and modifying the chords in the process, Roger and David could come up with a better combination. Nick took a few photos of them singing their duet.

“Thanks, Rog.”

“No problem.” He replied. “You should do something in return.”

David leaned to get closer. Roger smiled, and did the same. Tenderly, the guitarist left a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. A kiss so soft and delicate it could barely be sensed.

It was one of those things that made Roger ask himself how he had gotten so lucky. David could have anyone he wanted, but he chose to stay with him. He was privileged enough to share his days with the sweetest and gentler person he knew, and he was absolutely convinced they would spend the rest of their lives together. His company and his love were invaluable, completely beautiful, and unreplaceable.

“That one goes straight into the collection.”

Nick held his camera and showed Rick the photograph he had just taken. The couple looked at the two, and David chuckled. He didn’t mind it. They put their guitars aside, and sat more comfortably. They could finish the song later.

“Didn’t your mum teach you not to take pictures of people without their approval?” Roger asked, but he wasn’t really mad. Their two friends had gotten used to those little demonstrations of affection, and both Nick and Rick liked to see them happy.

“You look so cute.” Nick smiled, and Rick nodded to agree. “I’m the best photographer ever.”

He handed the picture to Roger for them to see.

It was perfect. The lightning from the window was generous but not invasive, and let space for some deep shadows, mostly on their clothes’ folds. David’s hair looked like it was blond, and it contrasted with Roger’s completely dark tresses. Both were holding their guitars as the strings shone slightly, and their expressions reflected their emotions with precision. Roger’s half-parted lips touched David’s, their eyes closed in a relaxed fashion.

“Well, it is a pretty photo.” The bassist admitted.

“It’s a wonderful photo.” Dave confirmed.

-

_Which is fine. There’s no reason why we should be._

Roger looks at his words, written in a newspaper.

It isn’t entirely a lie. They weren’t mates, they were much more than that.

Those days are long gone, as well as their love. He knows those memories will live on, residing in those unforgettable days, in the most intimate corner of his being. He hopes David treasures them too, and he wishes that someday, despite their differences, they will share a moment together again.

He knows that, in some old album he hasn’t opened in a long time, he still has that photo Nick took so many years ago. He doesn’t have the courage to get rid of it, it means too much for him.

Because after all, he can’t stop loving him. He can’t forget his lips and his sweet promises, even though they are broken.

He _never_ will.

**Author's Note:**

> It's awfully considerate of you to read this. 
> 
> I think I'm doing quite well with my English. I'm proud.  
> You know, I think these two can't hate each other. No matter what happened, their music still unites them.  
> This was inspired by this video, if you want to check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGPjfj69cXE  
> I'm in love with those photos. They look so young and happy. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you, again.


End file.
